


and it all leads back to you

by BostonArts



Series: MCYT oneshots [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Family Dynamics, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt TommyInnit, Hypothermia, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Non-Canonical Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, a goddamn kid, everyone else is mentioned not actually in the story, from running from exile era, hes just a kid, literally this is big sad boys, tommy main character pog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28768134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BostonArts/pseuds/BostonArts
Summary: tommy needs to leave, he needs to get away from logstedshire and get away from dreams grasp. and so he runs, blindly, off into the snow and is quickly overtaken by the elements.also known as: you can't survive in just a tshirt, jeans, and torn shoes while going into the artic big man.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: MCYT oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183373
Comments: 4
Kudos: 215





	and it all leads back to you

**Author's Note:**

> projecting onto characters pog!  
> look i am more of a techno apologist than anything but fuck man tommy is a kid and shit. 
> 
> so lets kill kids. i guess. in a video game!
> 
> also a heads up that there is like little to no capitalization, for the vibes.

the wind nipped at his skin, snow blinding his eyes as he walked. despite the lack of light coming from the sky he was able to see the land around him clearly, the snowfall letting up just enough so his eyes weren’t obscured. if he was back hom- back at l’Manburg, he would find someone to annoy and bother them into making a snowman with him. hell, if he was at logstedshire he would bother ghostbur, who would undoubtedly indulge him for some time. 

it was beautiful out here, as the dawn broke over the horizon. tommy hasn’t really taken the time to appreciate the rotation of the earth recently as he usually felt compelled to, trying to keep himself busy with building himself back up from humble beginnings and staying out of whatever dream would deem as trouble. parts of him were glad that his items were constantly being taken, as it kept him busier, but he couldn’t help as the resentment for the green bastard consumed his thoughts. 

dream was something he didn’t like to think about. or did. fuck. a part of him was, seemingly, happy whenever the bitch crossed his mind. he had visited him during his exile, brought him items and company. would inform him of how l’manburg was doing, how better it was now that he wasn’t there. dream was kind. why did he call him a bitch, that wasn’t fair.

no, it was. dream wasn’t a friend. a scowl crawling on his face as his thoughts dripped much like the water would into the crater made by dreams tnt, by dreams destruction. anything tommy touched, valued, was destroyed. his temporary home built by the shell of his brother, gone in a flash after the bunker was found. hell, his brother eventually left and he wouldn’t be surprised if the slimy green man had something to do with it. his lips tugged down as his thoughts started to trickle into the dark pond that would drown him nightly, the dawn of the morning starting to feel more like a mockery than a beautiful sight to behold. 

he could nearly imagine the colors the sky would be making, the hues of a new day that would stretch outward from the center of the giant star in the sky. he swears he could feel it, see it, how everything would look if it wasn’t so dreary. the orange, the color that brought nothing but pleasant feelings to him, would be the brightest. it would blend with the blue, mixing like two friends who would never dare to separate. it would feel overwhelming, the passion that the sky would feed him, and he starved for it now. no matter the fight he puts up, no matter the loud laughter or shouts that come from his mouth, it all is an act. and the clouds mocked him for it. 

the gray, dark sets of water floating in the sky felt like a stab in the chest as the snow started to pick back up. if he was as foolish as he was a few weeks ago, he would let his thoughts entertain him with the notion that his own feelings had an effect on the weather around him. parts of him wish he still had that child-like glee, the belief that anything he did held meaning. but he knows the truth now, and each time he remembers it he can feel himself sinking further. 

tommy is hit with the stark realization that he truly doesn’t know where he is. well, not that he knew where he was when he first started out, but he was extra lost now. huffing out a breath, dulled blue eyes scanned the area, trying to come up with anything. the footprints that trailed behind his shaking body were quickly hidden, snow and wind obscuring any proof he was there. he supposes it wouldn’t matter if he left anything behind, no one would care to track him down. well- that wasn’t too true, as he knew dream would want to find him eventually. he was nice like that.

he wasn’t. dream _didn’t_ care for tommy, he only cared about keeping him controlled. keeping him under the watchful gaze of that stupid fucking mask that hid his stupid fucking face. he didn’t want tommy to leave anything, he made that clear the moment he blew up Logstedshire. the moment he handed over the tnt to wilbur, the moment he called for white flags outside their walls, was when he made it clear. 

he could barely feel his fingers now, having lost most of the feeling in his lower half when he first started the journey. maybe he should’ve stayed near the beach. maybe he should’ve leapt, pretended he was his father with wind whipping through false wings. or he could have lunged into the hot sea, red waves burning him alive as he took his last plunge. 

god what he wouldn’t give to feel heat now, whatever part of his body he could feel seemingly had been dipped into ice cold water. he couldn’t tell if he was shaking anymore. he should be, he really should be. bodies shiver in the cold, something about trying to heat themselves up. something smart that wilbur (warm laughter, yellow sweaters, sweet tunes, warmth from his voice, warmth from his songs, warmth from his hugs, warmth from the fire, warmth from the explosions) or techno (betrayal, murder, blood, red eyes, snarls, yelling about heroes, heroes that tommy wanted to be, heroes that he saw them as, heroes he learned about from listening to techno read, the hero his father was supposed to be) would probably try to tell him as they once hung out. like a family was supposed to. 

if his body stopped shivering, stopped trying to heat itself up, was it giving up? was it giving up just like everyone else had? how pathetic, he thought, that even his own body wouldn’t want to support him anymore. 

yet, as he thought, as he closed his eyes trying to offset the weight of the snowflakes that found solace on his lashes, his body stopped walking. maybe it had stopped a while ago, he couldn’t fully recall how long he’s been walking or how long he’s been out here for that matter. the sky was still fucking gray, still dull and as lifeless as his eyes. he thought he could remember when the sun rose, but he had no way of telling how long it’s been since then. 

with a snarl he willed for his lifeless limbs to move again, trying to find a reason to continue forward. to continue getting away from logstedshire, away from l’manburg. away from what once was his home, where his family still lives. 

fuck. his _family_ .  
  
did he even still have the right to call them that? his father killed his older brother, the only one who raised him, and his other brother helped destroy the nation tommy and tubbo wished to turn it back into the home it once was. 

tubbo. the brother he trusted the most. the one he felt truly related to, the one he wanted to go through thick and thin with. the one who stood across from him on the obsidian wall, who stared at him with dream leering behind his shoulder, and announced he was exiled. 

his tubbo. tears wanted to gather in his eyes but he willed them down, not wanting frost to form on his face. but, as his body swayed forward, steps staggering, he felt the chain around his neck. the weight the iron held, heavier than his heart. 

and with shaking hands (was it from the cold? did his body actually want him to live?) he grasped the compass, not caring for the snow soaking through his pants as his body rested on the floor. 

kneeling, the compass was opened, arrow pointing back to where it always had. home. l’manburg. tubbo. his tubbo. 

he wanted to scream, to rip off the chain and throw the cursed object far from him. he wanted to sob, to curl up and hold it close to his chest, trying to hold onto the hope that tubbo would want to see him again. 

he did neither, as water soaked his knees. it grounded him for a moment, bringing him out of his thoughts as waves of exhaustion and heat hit him. did he get so worked up that his body was warm, sweat slowly rolling down his face? it was weird, but tommy let it seep into his skin, liking the cold that the snow brought to his overheating body.

glancing down back at the compass he let his knees bend, body crumpling foreward. tommy knew, once before, that he had collapsed much similarly before. but it wasn't the same. he could hear the snow crunch under him, but he couldn’t feel it. he could go for a nap, body heavy as he stopped fighting against the ache of pushing himself too much. it felt good to crash. 

it was decided, in tommy's mind, that after he cooled off from the sudden warmth engulfing him and woke up from his nap, he would turn back. he would go back to his tubbo. 

**Author's Note:**

> i think, i think i will write for techno and how he feels about the 'betrayal' later. because. i like feelings.


End file.
